Ave Maria
by Sunflowers In Moscow
Summary: Prussia knew he wasn't a good Christian. Not any more. But he was one, nonetheless. / "Help me, bitte, help me." He murmured, over and over again, before doing something he hadn't done since Fritz had been put in the ground. He prayed. Prayed for a miracle that would not come. / "Privyet, fashisty." / Prequel to Ozhidaniye (can be read on its own)


**_I don't own Heta_****_lia_**

* * *

Prussia knew many people would make the mistake of thinking him an atheist.

He wasn't exactly the pinnacle of a good Christian, after all. He was arrogant, prideful, and thought himself to be the best. He was obnoxious, rude, and cared little for others - although there were a few exceptions. No one could remember - _he _couldn't remember - the last time he had been inside a place of worship, and if they could, they would remember a lanky, spotty teenager mocking the priest behind his back.

Prussia knew he wasn't a good Christian. Not any more. But he was one, nonetheless.

He believed in God. Of course he did. As a nation, he had even more of a reason. Because when things like magic and eternal life was an ordinary concept in your life, was it really so much of a stretch to believe that there was a higher power?

Most people forgot what, _who_ he was born as, and in truth, he did little to dispel the assumption made by nations who weren't around at that time that he had always been Prussia. That he had always been a nation with a set area of land and people and a culture and beliefs. Because that meant everyone thought he was _normal_, that he wasn't the oddity he was in reality.

Like Old Fritz said, all those years ago when they spoke about Prussia's origins, "you shouldn't exist."

Nations were representatives of the land that couldn't speak for itself, of collections of people who identified themselves under a particular colour and became their children. They were a combination of both land and people, and that was what brought them into existence. Nothing else, because it was accepted as truth amongst them that both variables were needed.

That was where Prussia differed. Because he had been born the representative of a group of people, _with no land to speak of_.

He had been the Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem. The Teutonic Order.

* * *

Prussia's hand in his military issue trouser pocket shook as he remembered and unconsciously his fingers grasped for the worn string of beads that were almost as old as he was.

He had been so fervent.

* * *

Another mistaken assumption was that Prussia had been raised by Germania.

In truth, Prussia had seen very little of his adopted _vati _before he died. He hadn't had the opportunity the Italians had with their grandfather, to learn from him and have his guidance.

He had just been a scared little boy, thrown into a world of religious mania and bloodshed with no explanation and no support. He was dumped in the river, and had the choice whether to let himself drown or fight against the current with all his might.

His earliest memory wasn't of Germania, either.

He had been lying on some blankets by a fire, in a clearing surrounded by an dark forest. There was a middle aged man, with funny hair - he recalled thinking - winding the very same set of beads around his fingers, while whispering words in a language he didn't understand. He had been so confused, and had managed to croak out, "who are you?"

The man had taken a few minutes to reply, finishing his strange mumbles, before looking up with an expression Prussia could only have called reverent.

"I want you to hold on to these beads, Gilbert." Was that his name? "Never let them go, and Maria will guide you even in the darkest of times."

"W-who are you?"

"I am Heinrich."

* * *

_"I am Heinrich."_

The words seemed to echo throughout the barren church, despite only existing in Prussia's mind, and he closed his eyes and listened to the voice of the only man he had ever called father.

The beads were now wrapped around his fingers tightly, and he pulled them out of the pocket and brought them closer to his face. He could see his history in these beads; the laughter, the tears, the bloodshed, the power, the worship.

In all honesty, he had cared for these beads better than he had for himself - religion used to mean so much to him.

Fritz used to wonder at his mentality when he would come back from battle covered in blood, wounds and other unnameable substances but would then pull out the immaculate beads from some obscure pocket in his uniform and say a quick prayer.

A smile spread across his face as he saw the scolding he had gotten play out before his very eyes. It had been magnificent, and it had been one of the only times Fritz had admitted that he worried about him. A hug had left the man spluttering, and Prussia cackling at his lack of composure.

Those had been the good times.

Back when things weren't complicated, when he had still felt like a good person. When God was still with him, when war was still fun and not covering the massacre of millions of innocents.

His smile slipped off his face, and the dark circles under his crimson eyes became apparent. He knew there were lines on his face that hadn't been there before, and the stress of this entire situation was beginning to get to him.

Maybe that was why he felt the need to break his fast, to turn once again to the heavens for guidance.

* * *

Prussia used to think - back before he had become Prussia, when he was still the little brat running around in a sized down version of his knights' uniform - that despite everything, nations went to hell.

That when they died, no matter how good they were in their lives, that they went to hell.

He had been quite pessimistic back then - not much had changed - but his reasoning was sound. If nations were representatives of the people, did that not mean they also took responsibility for their sins?

It made sense.

But it hadn't bothered him. He had felt centuries off from his death, and Prussia, even back then, had been the 'live in the moment' sort of person.

* * *

But now, as finally his tormented mind let the sounds of screams and explosions that came from outside the church - he could see the walls shake every time a bomb landed nearby - he knew he had been wrong.

When nations died, they didn't get the honour of going to either afterlife.

When they died, they vanished.

Because, for them,_ life _was both heaven and hell in one.

* * *

Prussia didn't want to vanish yet.

He wanted to live. He knew he had so much more to give, so much more to do.

He had his insane little brother to fix (because he couldn't be allowed to stay like that - this needed to end), he had the stupid Italian to look out for (because Ludwig loved him, and he would act on that love after this hell was over, and he would not let anything get in the way of his brother's future happiness), he had the prissy musician to irritate (it had become a form of bonding by now), he had a certain harpy to flirt with and be assaulted by (she was the sister he had never had; funny how death put things into perspective)...

He had to have that glass of wine with Antonio, he had to apologise to Francis, he had to show Lars and Lukas where they had hidden Bella and Matthias, he had to-

"_Gott_!" His voice resounded in his ears as he clutched his head, bending over in front of a statue of Maria, ignoring the beads that were now digging into his skin.

"Help me, _bitte, _help me." He murmured, over and over again, fumbling with the beads into a semi-recognisable position before doing something he hadn't done since Fritz had been put in the ground.

He prayed.

He prayed for the millions of people his brother had slaughtered in his maniac "cleansing", for their families and for their spirits.

He prayed for Ludwig's sanity, because he knew the horror his brother would be faced with, the disgust and the shame he would feel when this was over.

He prayed for Feliciano and Lovino, always caught on the wrong side, always in the way, never understanding just what they had gotten themselves into.

He prayed for Kiku, who had been so injured in his misguided ambition, and for the return of his wisdom that had been lost in the greed of his people.

He prayed for the friends he had wronged, for Francis, Bella, Lars, and Matthias, for their health.

He prayed for Feliks, the man who had been his enemy and was now the one tied up in a camp somewhere.

He prayed for forgiveness for his people, the ones who had been so misled, so twisted by _that _man and who would in turn, pay the price.

He prayed for mercy from the allies, that they would be fair to the people who were forced to follow orders.

And, last of all, he prayed for himself. He prayed for forgiveness that he didn't deserve, for not doing anything, when he had the power to stop this.

Sometimes it was worse to do nothing than to try and fail.

* * *

The sounds of the battle outside suddenly increased in volume for a moment, and his frantic prayers were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots thudding slowly on the lacquered wooden floor.

_Thud, thud,_ _thud. _

His heartbeat sped in his chest, and his lower lip began to tremble. He reached out with his very soul in desperation to the statue of the woman in front of him, the woman he had served faithfully since birth, and said one more prayer.

He prayed for mercy that he didn't deserve...

"_Privyet, fashisty_."

Something hit the back of his neck hard, and his world went black, his last memory of a large hand pulling him up from his knees.

... And that he would not get.

* * *

_Gegrüßet seist du, Maria, voll der Gnade, _

_der Herr ist mit dir. _

_Du bist gebenedeit unter den Frauen, _

_und gebenedeit ist die Frucht deines Leibes, Jesus. _

_Heilige Maria, __Mutter Gottes,_

_bitte für uns Sünder jetzt und in der Stunde _

_unseres Todes. _

_Amen._

* * *

**A sort of prequel to my story Ozhidaniye. Not everything was sunflowers and beer :-)**

**Personally, I see Prussia as a very religious person, even though he doesn't show it.**

**Right, history time. **

**The whole thing about the existence of nations is headcanon, okay? Do not take it as gospel, it's just my opinion.**

**Heinrich was the first Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, and I see him as the one who would have discovered Prussia. Slight headcanon, there.**

**Also, this has no connection to my story Into The Dark (which is PruFri), alright? They are not related.**

**The Teutonic Order was a military order which crusaded around Europe, promoting Catholicism (then Protestantism, then Catholicism again). You read all of these stories where Prussia isn't religious at all and I think "someone hasn't done their research." ANYWAYS...**

**Uh, the German is pretty basic. If you don't know it, I'll bash my brains out on my desk. The Russian:**

**- Privyet - hello. **

**- Fashisty - fascist, nazi. Very offensive Russian insult towards Germans. **

**In case anyone didn't catch it, this is set during the Battle of Berlin. Not related to my Historical!Hetalia story Pound of Flesh (Russia is pissed and goes rampaging through Berlin looking for the German bros. Pretty gruesome, in all honesty, but it was fun to write), which is set in the same battle.**

**The prayer at the end is Hail Mary is German. The title "Ave Maria" means Hail Mary in Latin. **

**Yeah, I think that's pretty much it. As usual, any questions, put it in a PM. Otherwise, please review! And check out Ozhidaniye!**

**Review please!**

**(^J^) - Russia troll!**

**Another thing - THIS IS FINISHED. JUST A ONE SHOT. IF I CONTINUE IT, IT WILL BE AS ANOTHER ONE SHOT. DO NOT ALERT THIS STORY.**

**Thank you.**


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